A Summary of the Happy Chemicals and How They Have Shaped My Life
Content warning: This article discusses addiction, trauma, domestic violence, grief, death, anxiety, depression, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Please take care of yourself while reading. 💜
Over the past several weeks, I have written about the chemicals and systems that influence motivation, mood, connection, pain relief, stress, and survival: dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, endorphins, and cortisol.
But this series was never only about brain science. It was also about continuing to understand myself and why my brain works the way it does—because some days, I hate it.
For most of my life, I judged my reactions without understanding what was happening underneath them. I wondered why I struggled to slow down even when I was exhausted, why I stayed attached to people who hurt me, why I constantly expected something bad to happen, and why relief once felt more important than happiness or life itself.
I’m not sure I even knew what happiness truly felt like. I only knew I wanted whatever I was feeling and thinking to stop.
For a long time, I believed these patterns were personality flaws. I now understand that many of them were connected to a brain and nervous system that had spent approximately 35 years adapting to trauma, addiction, grief, instability, fear, and pain.
That does not remove my responsibility for my choices. But it gives those choices context, and context has helped me replace some of my shame with understanding.
To close out the series, I want to share the experiences that stood out in my mind while learning about each chemical—and the ways I have recognized them in my own life.
“Dopamine is the reward your brain gets for making progress, not just for reaching the destination.”
— Simon Sinek
“The brain releases dopamine when it experiences a surprise reward. It is a signal to pay attention and remember how you got it.”
— Dr. Andrew Huberman
Dopamine: Always Needing Something to Chase
For years, I needed movement, excitement, stimulation, or something to look forward to. Sometimes that came through partying, alcohol, drugs, unhealthy relationships, impulsive decisions, or environments where something was always happening.
Even after getting sober, my need to stay busy did not disappear. It changed forms. In 2019, while living in an Oxford House, I had an extremely difficult time slowing down. I stayed constantly busy and pushed myself even when the women I lived with could see I was doing too much. A large portion of one house meeting focused on me needing to slow down. And I agreed with them.
The problem was that I truly did not know how. I did not know how to sit still or feel comfortable without somewhere to go, a full-page to-do list, or anything else that kept my brain occupied.
Then, after Dustin died in 2022, that pattern became even more extreme.
Being home alone became almost unbearable. I attended the latest recovery meetings in town so I would not have to go home any earlier than necessary. If no one was available afterward, I would often go to the casino and stay until I was tired enough to go home and sleep. I may have spent only five or ten dollars. I was not there to gamble. I was there because I could not stand the thought of being home alone.
Home no longer felt like a place where I could rest. It was the place where my life was destroyed. Being alone meant facing the reality of Dustin’s death, replaying that morning, and sitting with emotions my brain did not know how to process.
Learning about dopamine helped me understand that we do not only chase substances or pleasure. We can chase achievement, activity, distraction, relationships, validation, and even exhaustion.
Sometimes being completely worn out feels easier than being awake and alone with our thoughts. Staying busy is still something I struggle with, but not as much as I did even a year ago. Justin reminds me that one reason I began this new chapter—leaving my career and a much larger salary behind—was because I already knew what complete burnout felt like. It had been killing me mentally.
I am learning that everything does not have to happen immediately. Slow, consistent progress is still progress—especially while balancing full-time side-work and building a business.
Slowing down is not the same as giving up.
Rest does not make someone lazy.
And staying constantly busy is not always the same thing as moving forward.
“Serotonin is the feeling of calm satisfaction. It is triggered when you feel respected, valued, and safe in your social environment.”
— Loretta Graziano Breuning
“Serotonin plays a powerful role in pride and status. It flows when you feel your contributions are recognized by others.”
— Simon Sinek
“Serotonin is the brain’s natural stabilizer. It doesn’t make you high; it makes you resilient against the storms of life.”
— Unknown
Serotonin: When Stability Never Felt Stable
My struggles with depression, anxiety, self-confidence, and emotional regulation did not appear out of nowhere.
As a child, I was regularly exposed to violence, drugs, alcohol, and circumstances I could not understand or control. As I grew older, more trauma was added rather than resolved.
For much of my life, I did not feel emotionally safe or stable. The strange part is that I often did not recognize that while I was living in it. Honestly, I do not know whether I had ever felt completely safe until I met Justin and began building this life with him.
My entire life has changed, and I love it.
But even now, there are moments when part of me waits for the calm to end. A small change in someone’s tone, expression, energy, or behavior can feel much larger to me than it might to someone whose brain did not learn to constantly monitor the environment.
My anxiety can also activate for no obvious reason. I can be having a perfectly good day. Nothing is wrong. No one is angry. Nothing bad is happening. And yet my thoughts begin racing as though there is an emergency I have failed to notice—or something important I have forgotten. My body becomes tense before I even know what I am anxious about. Then I become anxious about being anxious. So imagine the days there is one of these things going on.
Learning about brain chemistry has not given me one simple explanation for this. Human emotions are far more complicated than one chemical. But it has helped me recognize that I cannot always reason my way out of a response that began in my body before my conscious mind understood it.
For years, I genuinely believed I was broken. I thought I had fucked up my brain too badly through trauma, addiction, stress, and everything else I had experienced. As I began noticing improvement and seeing parts of myself return, that belief slowly started going away.
Mental health is not a character test. Struggling does not mean I am permanently broken.
Sometimes surviving for so long takes so much energy that the brain does not immediately know what to do with peace when it finally arrives.
“When you’re in love… your brain is flooded with the chemical responsible for feelings of pleasure and reward, and your ability to experience stress and worry is diminished.”
— Dean Burnett
“Oxytocin doesn’t just make us feel good; it drives us to seek social connection, protect our loved ones, and build communities.”
— Simon Sinek
“When oxytocin levels are high, our capacity for empathy increases, allowing us to see the world from another person’s perspective.”
— Dr. Paul Zak
“Oxytocin is the chemical currency of trust, and its easiest delivery system is safe, meaningful physical contact.”
— Unknown
Oxytocin: When Connection Does Not Mean Safety
Oxytocin helped me understand some of my relationships—and some of my more questionable decisions—most clearly.
I have always been highly empathetic and sensitive to the feelings of others. I could often see the trauma, addiction, fear, insecurity, or difficult history underneath someone’s behavior, even when that behavior was hurting me.
There were multiple times when I began dating men who were basically homeless and moved them into my home almost immediately. I did not recognize my own worth. I thought I could fix their problems, provide stability, give them a safe place, or help them create a better life. I even used credit cards to help them financially because, naturally, we were going to spend the rest of our lives together!
Right?!? 🙄
Love during addiction was complete insanity. But it always seemed very real. Being needed made the connection feel meaningful. Their problems gave me a role. I could focus on rescuing them instead of taking care of myself.
My relationship with my father also shaped what I believed love, loyalty, and family were supposed to look like. I loved him, looked up to him, defended him, and continued hoping he would change, even while being exposed to behavior that hurt me, put me in danger, and made me feel unsafe well into adulthood. I also played a toxic role in our relationship once I became an adult and was heavily drinking. I take responsibility for that. But he was still my father. That relationship never should have reached the point where I was repeatedly being placed in danger by him or sacrificing my own livelihood and future to do his errands.
When I eventually created boundaries and cut ties, some people interpreted that as blame or punishment. It was not about them. It was about protecting my sanity.
On my father’s side of the family, loyalty is strongly tied to blood. You forgive. You act like nothing happened. You do whatever is necessary to support family. You never give up because people can change.
That became confusing in recovery because forgiveness and resentment are discussed so heavily.
But how do you resolve resentment when the harmful behavior is still happening?
I eventually realized that forgiveness does not require access. Creating distance does not mean I am blaming someone for anything. It means I am taking my peace and serenity back.
I carried the belief in unconditional loyalty into other relationships too. I thought that if I loved people enough, helped them enough, understood them enough, or waited long enough, they would change.
But people do not change because someone else loves them enough. They change when they choose to change and are willing to do the work. Caring about someone does not make me responsible for saving them. Empathy does not require self-abandonment. Love does not require housing, money, emotional labor, or unlimited chances for someone who refuses to take responsibility. And blood does not give anyone an automatic right to access me.
Blood alone does not define family for me. My family includes people who have loved me safely, respected my boundaries, supported my growth, and allowed me to be honest without punishing me for it. Some share my blood. Some do not.
One of the hardest lessons of healing has been accepting that I can love someone, understand where their behavior comes from, and still recognize that I cannot save them or allow them in my life.
“Laughter is the cheapest and most effective wonder drug. It triggers the immediate release of endorphins, lowering stress instantly.”
— Unknown
“Endorphins mask physical pain with a feeling of euphoria. In nature, this chemical helps an injured animal escape a predator.”
— Loretta Graziano Breuning
Endorphins: When Relief Became More Important Than Happiness
There were many times in my life when I was not chasing happiness. I was simply trying to feel anything other than what I was feeling.
When I was around 12 years old, I was moved out of state. I was being bullied at school for the first time while also living around constant violence at home. I did not have the emotional tools, stability, or support a child should have while trying to process those experiences. I also could not tell the people creating the toxic environment what was happening inside my head.
How do you explain that at 12 while you are simply trying to get by and stay out of the way?
Instead, my life became increasingly adult while I was still very much a child.
I started working.
I started driving.
I started drinking alcohol and using drugs, including marijuana and cocaine.
Drugs and alcohol gave me something different to feel. They provided temporary relief from fear, loneliness, insecurity, and everything happening around me.
Even if I had understood what was happening, who could I have told? My father had always drilled into me that you never snitched and that police were the enemy. Calling for help never even crossed my mind or felt like an option. A weapon came out before that would happen – and that is what ended up happening and what finally got me sent back home to Kansas.
That does not make my choices harmless. Starting so young exposed me to dangerous people, environments, substances, and situations that created even more pain later.
But I understand now that I was not simply a “bad kid” looking for trouble. I was a child using adult behaviors to cope with emotions and circumstances I did not know how to handle.
As I grew older, the methods changed, but the search for relief continued. I used alcohol and later prescription medication after back surgery to quiet my thoughts, numb emotional pain, and temporarily escape myself. Sometimes I was chasing pleasure. But most of the time, I was trying to make discomfort stop.
There is a difference between wanting to feel good and desperately needing to feel different.
“Cortisol is the body’s alarm system. It is meant to save your life from a tiger, not to run constantly because of an unread email.”
— Unknown“When cortisol is high, the brain prioritizes immediate survival over long-term health, cellular repair, and digestion.”
— Dr. Sara Gottfried
“Chronic cortisol exposure physically shrinks the prefrontal cortex—the area of the brain responsible for memory and learning.”
— Dr. Tara Swart
Cortisol: Preparing for What Might Happen Next
Learning about cortisol helped me understand why I can remain tense even when nothing is currently wrong. My brain learned early that danger could appear quickly and over something incredibly small.
The first example that came to mind was a violent reaction I witnessed as a child. Someone was leaning too far forward in a vehicle and blocking the driver’s view. I was around 10 or 11 and sitting in the back seat. The response was completely disproportionate, and if I remember correctly, the man driving punched the woman in the passenger seat.
My developing brain stored that lesson and it stored it good. I remember it like it was yesterday. To this day, when I am near that intersection or in a similar situation, I instinctively lean back. Every time. I almost always apologize, even if the driver did not notice.
Logically, I know the original danger is not happening again. But my nervous system remembers a time when something that minor led to violence.
That pattern has appeared in many areas of my life. I prepare for arguments that have not happened. I rehearse explanations in my head expecting people to be upset. I notice a change in someone’s tone and immediately wonder what I did wrong. I feel pressure to fix problems that may not exist or are not mine to fix.
Sometimes my anxiety activates on a perfectly good day for reasons I cannot identify. I can be safe and surrounded by people I trust, yet my mind begins racing anyway. Sometimes something has triggered an old memory without me realizing it.
My brain was shaped by decades of experiences that taught it terrible things could happen without warning. Healing has required me to learn the difference between danger and discomfort, intuition and anxiety, and a present warning sign and an old response.
It has also required me to recognize that I no longer live in an environment where I need to fear those extreme reactions. I am still learning. But even when I cannot identify the exact trigger, understanding why my body may be responding that way helps keep me from spiraling further.
“Each happy chemical triggers a different good feeling. Dopamine produces the joy of finding what you seek… Oxytocin produces the feeling of being safe with others… And serotonin produces the feeling of being respected by others.”
— Loretta Graziano Breuning
None of These Chemicals Work Alone
One of the most important things I learned while writing this series is that none of these chemicals or systems operates alone.
Long-term stress can affect sleep, mood, concentration, motivation, connection, and the ability to experience pleasure. Feeling unsafe or disconnected can lead someone to chase stimulation through substances, relationships, work, attention, excitement, or risk. When pain feels unbearable, relief can become the main goal. After harmful relationships, connection can feel both necessary and dangerous.
That is why human behavior can appear contradictory. We can want connection and still isolate. We can want peace and still feel uncomfortable when life becomes calm. We can need rest and still feel guilty when we stop moving. We can logically understand that we are safe while our body remains prepared for danger.
I have seen every one of those contradictions in myself. Understanding that has helped me stop viewing my behaviors as random flaws. My need for stimulation, fear of slowing down, attachment to people I believed I could save, search for relief, and preparation for danger were connected.
That does not mean those patterns were healthy. It means they made sense in the context of what my brain had learned.
The feeling we call ‘happiness’ comes from four special brain chemicals: dopamine, endorphin, oxytocin, and serotonin.”
— Loretta Graziano Breuning
Closing: Understanding, Accountability, and Learning to Live
Understanding how my brain and nervous system were shaped does not mean blaming brain chemicals, trauma, addiction, grief, or other people for the mistakes I have made.
I have hurt people. I have made destructive choices. I have reacted from fear, anger, addiction, grief, and untreated trauma. I am responsible for acknowledging that harm, taking accountability, and changing my behavior.
But accountability without understanding can turn into shame, and shame rarely creates lasting change.
Understanding allows me to ask better questions:
What was happening inside me?
What need was I trying to meet?
What feeling was I trying to escape?
What pattern was I repeating?
What would a healthier response look like now?
Sometimes I still cannot answer those questions. But asking them helps me understand what needs to change.
There is a major difference between saying, “This helps explain why I behaved that way,” and saying, “This excuses what I did.”
An explanation gives me information. An excuse gives me permission not to change.
Getting sober saved my life, but stopping the use of alcohol and other substances was only the beginning.
I then had to learn how to live without the things that numbed my pain, created stimulation, and temporarily quieted my brain. I had to face the reasons I wanted to escape, learn how to sit with uncomfortable emotions, recognize unhealthy attachments, create boundaries, and stop confusing chaos with love. I had to accept that healing might change my relationships and learn that calm can feel unfamiliar before it feels comforting.
And I began creating a life I do not constantly need to escape from.
I am not finished; far from it! I still overwork, become overwhelmed, misread situations, and struggle with anxiety, depression, grief, attention, memory, and stress.
Sometimes my body reacts before my logical brain catches up. But today, I see a noticeably positive change than where I was a year ago. I notice the patterns and the improvements. Sometimes I can recognize a pattern before acting on it.
That progress may not look dramatic from the outside. For me, it is enormous.
For years, I saw myself as too emotional, too reactive, too anxious, too intense, too complicated, and too damaged. I truly believed I was mentally broken.
Now I am learning to look at myself differently. My brain adapted to the environment it was given. It learned to detect danger, seek relief, attach strongly, keep moving, and survive.
Some of those adaptations became harmful. Others became some of my strongest assets.
Healing does not mean hating the parts of myself that learned those strategies. It means understanding why they developed and teaching myself that I have different options now. I cannot change what happened to me or undo the choices I made before I understood myself.
But I can continue learning.
I can take accountability when I make a mistake.
I can choose healthier ways to cope.
I can create boundaries.
I can stop treating every alarm as proof of danger.
I can build relationships based on safety instead of chaos.
And I can continue creating a life that feels worth being fully present for.
There is finally a light at the end of the tunnel. There is finally hope.
Healing is not about becoming someone whose brain never struggles. It is about recognizing when an old survival strategy is no longer helping and slowly teaching myself that I do not have to live every day as though I am still trapped in the worst moments of my life.
My past explains parts of me. It does not get to control everything I become.
My brain helped me survive. Now I am teaching it how to live—normally, whatever that means.
Thank you for reading the Happy Chemical Series! It has been incredibly eye-opening for me, and I truly hope it has helped others too. Please remember that you are worthy of happiness, peace, and serenity. Constant chaos and drama are not normal, even when they are familiar. Breaking cycles requires honesty, accountability, and change.
I am still deciding where to take the conversation next. If there is a topic you would like me to explore, please comment on this post or reach out to me. Do not be shy—this is a safe space, and we keep the peace here. 😊✌️☮️
Love you guys. Have a great week!
Resources
The subjects discussed in this article may bring up difficult emotions or memories. Help is available.
Mental health or emotional crisis:
Call or text 988 for free, confidential crisis support.
Mental health or addiction treatment:
Call the SAMHSA National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357) or visit FindTreatment.gov.
Domestic violence support:
Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788.
Local assistance:
Call 211 for help finding local mental health services, support groups, housing, food, and other community resources.
If you or someone else is in immediate danger, call 911.
*This article reflects my personal experiences and research. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, or replace professional medical or mental health care.
References
- National Institute of Mental Health. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
- National Institute on Drug Abuse. Drugs, Brains, and Behavior: The Science of Addiction.
- Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. The Neurobiology of Substance Use, Misuse, and Addiction.
- StatPearls. Physiology, Serotonin; Biochemistry, Endorphin; and Physiology, Cortisol.
- Bosch, O. J., and Young, L. J. Oxytocin and Social Relationships: From Attachment to Bond Disruption.
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